


A Summer Realisation

by TheRussianKat



Series: A Memory of Golden Curls [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Enjolsette siblings, F/M, M/M, after the death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRussianKat/pseuds/TheRussianKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is fine, he's okay and if everyone could leave him alone that would be great</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Summer Realisation

Grantaire was happy to be alone. He was happy to keep his friends at arm’s length and hold himself up in his apartment with only the television and a few choice bottles of wine. Even though he hadn’t watched the television in close to a week and the wine remained un-opened and hidden beneath the sink. He was happy.

He was a-oh-fucking-kay.

He laughed as he stretched out on the sofa letting the blankets fall to the floor. He could do this, he didn’t need Enjolras, he had lived without him before and he would do it again now. _Not so difficult_ he thought. He had already made it through a week. He hadn’t spoken, barely eaten and could do with a shower but he was coping. He was still there, still living, still…

His head hurt, but if he were honest he couldn’t really feel anything. It was a constant dull throbbing existing, reminding him that he was alive. That he was _okay._

With a grunt he pulled himself up, pulling the red hoodie he was wearing tighter about his body. It smelt different from when he had first put it on, no longer crisp and slightly minty it was instead musky tinged with smoke but it felt the same, warm and safe. He stumbled to the kitchen pointedly avoiding the cupboard beneath the sink.

As he waited for the kettle to boil he heard a phone start ringing in the lounge. That had been happening a lot the past week. He let it ring out the answer machine kicking in and resounding through the apartment “Hi R,” it was Bahorel “Man I know everything is, well, shit isn’t it? But can you please call me? Or any of us?” Grantaire continued to stir his coffee, ignoring how his heart was now hammering in his chest. “Just let us,” Bahorel choked “Let us know you’re okay, alright? Cosette’s trying to arrange everything but,” his voice was tight “I really think she could do with your help man.”

“Hey Rel,” Grantaires’ voice was rough.

“R? Jesus Christ,” the other man laughed making Grantaires lips twitch into a smile “I was, I mean we were all worried, how you doing man?”

Sinking back into the sofa cushions Grantaire sighed “I’m, I’m here and I’m fine, I just – I’m okay, really.”

“Well I for one would like to call bullshit on that,” a soft voice sounded from the door way.

“I’ve gotta go,” Grantaire said as he hung up on Bahorel, eyes focused on the petit blonde in his doorway “Cosette? What are you doing here?”

The blonde smiled slightly, walking further into the room until she was sat beside the artist. “I wanted to see you,” she started eyes flitting over his appearance no doubt taking in the rumpled clothes, week old stubble and dirty hair.

“You should be with Marius,” he gruffed running a hand over his face, willing his eyes to stop prickling “I’ll be fine, I’m okay on my own.”

“No you’re not,” Cosette reached for his hand he soft fingers running over his knuckles “You’re a wreck, I should know, I am too,” she gave a gentle laugh her bottom lip trembling as she continued to caress the rough hands beneath her own.

Grantaire offered no response instead focusing on the small fingers pale against his own skin, so she continued “I tried to phone him you know? Day after it happened, I just forgot you know?” she looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears “And I sat there, letting it ring, so excited to tell him about Dad coming down to visit. Then his voicemail kicked in and it just…hit me,” her voice was breaking and her hands began to shake “It was like being told all over again and there was nothing I could do.”

Tears began to trail down her face her entire body now shaking with grief. Grantaire felt his own heart ache as he watched her break beside him. Carefully he wrapped his fingers around hers and shuffled closer bringing his other hand up to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. “I keep trying to make him coffee,” he whispered as Cosette gave a few sniffles.

“Every time I boil the kettle I always do it for two and then realize it’s just me now, and I have to put his mug away. But I can’t,” he gave a cracked laugh “It’s still out there next to the kettle.”

They stayed that way, leaning against each other as they slowly put themselves back together as best they could. Cosette was the one to break the tentative silence “The funeral’s on Saturday, you can ride with me and Marius if you like?”

These words hit Grantaire with a surprising force. _Of course there’s a funeral_. Somehow that had slipped his mind during the past few days. _He couldn’t do it._ His head was slowly getting louder as he pushed himself away from Cosette. “I can’t” he choked out, scrambling off the couch and pacing the floor.

“Taire? Please?” Cosette gently pulled herself up “You have to be there.”

“Why do I?” he was shouting now, loud enough to hide the tremble in his words.

The small blonde was undeterred “Because you loved him, because he would want you there Grantaire.”

A lump had formed in Grantaire’s throat and his heart was screaming in his chest “REALLY? And how do we know he would want me there exactly? You asked him? No. Because he’s dead. He’s,” the dark haired man faltered as he yelled his voice falling into a small frightened whisper “gone. He’s gone.”

His heart stopped screaming and his head finally stopped thrumming behind his eyes. His throat constricted as he stumbled to the couch once more. “He’s gone,” he gasped as the first sobs began to wrack his body “He’s gone.”

Cosette watched as he cried, the blunt force of his words still resounding in her head. But they didn’t hurt. They didn’t sting like they should. She couldn’t feel a thing. So she sat beside the man who had lost everything and held him gently whispering “It’ll get better. I don’t know how, but I promise, it will get better,” and she almost believed it herself.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure how to write Grantaire so I hope people like, and if not I adore feedback!!


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